Friday 7 April 2006 20.14 EDT
First published on Friday 7 April 2006 20.14 EDT

So, farewell Mike Baldwin. Laid on the cobbles in front of the Kabin, this week Mike took his last breaths, clutched to the breast of his nemesis Ken Barlow, witnessed by Rita and Emily, both neighbours of 30 years. A peculiarly fitting end to the cockney king of knickers. He'll be sadly missed. No more Mike Baldwin in his Edinburgh Woollen Mill golfing jerseys and smart-casual slacks sneaking a fine single malt and a lamb hotpot. No more clashes with Fuzz over shoddy stitching or scanning the obituaries for wealthy widows to woo. No more boozy afternoons at the 19th hole. Literally the end of an era.

Although Mike's decline from Alzheimer's was bleak and harrowing, there were bittersweet moments to his final days. Imaginary meetings with Bet Lynch, Alma Halliwell and his mother. Chess with Chesney and a day out in town with old flame Deirdre. The time, at last, to watch Ready Steady Cook and wear pyjamas until tea-time.

Meanwhile the Baldwin clan, Frankie, Danny and Jamie, competed for who could love Mike the most. Mike, for all his hard-nosed ways, meant a lot to all who knew him. By the end, however, Mike was like Weatherfield's King Lear, broken and confused, wandering through a storm, berating his family who he believed had stolen his kingdom.

As Mike battled with imaginary demons, the real world plodded on. Rita was annoying new landlady Emily by making tea "in the cup" and not a proper pot. Emily harrumphed that this would stain her teacups and make the beverage "over-stewed". Rita disagreed, and she knew all about being over-stewed, mainly after 7pm each night when she was spotted glugging back triple Johnnie Walker's with a thimble of soda then crashing into the spare bed, dreaming newsagent dreams of DeAgostini partworks, pear drops and People's Friends. Whisky guzzling? Bad tea-bag etiquette? This was all stuff Emily didn't know when she slung out Norris and invited Rita to convalesce.

Meanwhile Norris, thrilled to be caretaking Rita's flat for the foreseeable, celebrated by throwing a housewarming party. Star guest was Blanche and entertainment provided by Norris's Engelbert Humperdinck vinyl. Within 12 minutes Blanche had killed Norris's party by insulting Ken, Deirdre, Rita, Fred Elliot and Bev, leaving Norris alone for the last waltz with his untouched sausage and pineapple porcupine and a mountain of stale cheese straws.

Ever the snob, Norris hadn't invited Les and Cilla Battersby-Brown to his bash, although they were tied up anyhow by a visit from social services regarding little Chesney's adoption. Chesney has been asking awkward questions lately about the exact identity of his "real dad". Awkward because Cilla purports to have no recollection of the mystery man.

Considering Chesney's hair colour and the dates, times and places in question (bright red, born mid-1990s, Manchester), suspects in the frame include Mick Hucknall (possibly after he played the Manchester G-MEX during the Stars tour), Alan McGee while scouting Oasis, Captain James Hewitt on northern military manoeuvres or, more likely, some random bloke in a Chevignon sweatshirt and Rockport boots she dragged round the back of the Phoenix in Ellesmere Port one drunken Friday. Whoever it was, Cilla's keeping her lips, unlike her ski-pants, well zipped.

Over on EastEnders, Grunt and Phil made their dramatic return, immediately loading up the Range Rover for a jaunt to Johnny Allen's house to wreak revenge over Dennis's death. A whole week of car-chases, simian chest-beating and macho dialogue followed. It felt a bit like watching one very long Rowdy Rodder Piper straight-to-DVD movie, except with two bald Rowdy Roddys, one of whom liked to have a nice cup of tea and a scone with the enemy then wash up afterwards, before recommencing his evil.

Johnny and Ruby were living on the outskirts of London, somewhere which took anywhere between four minutes and three hours to drive to, depending on what the plot twist required. They lived in a nine-bedroom white Byzantine mansion with decor Missy Elliott would probably have rejected as a bit OTT. It had fancy topiary, "safe rooms" and a posh gravel driveway.

This explains why Ruby looked so glum last year when Johnny forgot he owned Allen Mansions and forced them to "keep it real" in a poky, dark, inner-city hovel which felt like it had been decorated by Jeffrey Dahmer. Ruby was getting her own back for this by making Johnny drink sheep's milk and do squat thrusts wearing a bright pink sweater which she'd clearly mugged off one of the Wiggles.

Somewhere along the way Danny Moon was shot dead by Jake Moon, Johnny confessed to a number of murders and the Mitchells were home in time to avoid being told off by mum. Immediately, Phil began bullying ex-stepson Ian Beale over custody of Ben, yet another child for the Mitchell brothers to fixate on for months on end, gain custody of, then palm off on Peggy whenever they want to go out and play.

Elsewhere, Sonia and Martin's marriage was in tatters following Sonia's decision to be a lesbian. It's a decision which has gone down as badly with the entire square as, say, Frank Butcher's decision to drive really fast past the Vic in 1998 with Tiffany squashed across the bonnet. That badly.

Not that Sonia and Naomi are rubbing jilted Martin's face in things. Honestly, if there were any more suitable bars than the Queen Vic in the whole of London for the girls to celebrate their love in, then they'd go there, but there simply aren't. Poor Jim Branning, he's seen stuff in the past week that's made his good eye go wonky. But never mind everyone else - at least Sonia and Naomi are smiling now, that's the main thing. Oh.

Over in Emmerdale, lesbians are also running amok, with teenagers Debbie Dingle and Jasmine Thomas sneaking kisses and getting caught in bed together by Jasmine's uncle, Ashley the vicar. Ashley quickly set about finding work for the devil's hands by encouraging the girls to join the new Emmerdale village choir. Weirdly, the girls refused. Ashley then made the long trek through piles of pig poo and burned-out Massey Ferguson tractors and Vauxhall Rascal spare parts to the Dingle HQ, which looks very much like an agricultural version of Bartertown in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. The Dingles accepted the news about Debbie's bi-curiosity with their usual boggle-eyed wisdom. If Cain could have just worked out who and why, he'd have loved to beat someone up over it.

Meanwhile, over at the Woolpack, plans were afoot for a 1970s fancy-dress night. You can say what you like about Emmerdale folk, but they know how to throw a proper party, unlike on EastEnders, where even Martin's 21st turned into nine pensionable adults squeezed into Pauline Fowler's sitting room checking their watches and choking on dry Victoria sponge.

In contrast, 1970s night had everything a proper bash should: inappropriate drunkenness, dancing, daft cocktails and tears before bedtime. Paul and Ivan flirted with each other and there was a chance of snogging, although as ever this turned into the same old routine of crossed wires and mistrust, livened up by the fact they were both bickering to a soundtrack of Tiger Feet by Mud, while wearing 18-inch bell bottoms, platform heels and stick-on sideburns.

Finally, the last days of super-bitch Sadie King are almost nigh, her grim manner of exit meaning Patsy Kensit won't have the option to return. But what's Emmerdale's loss is Holby City's gain, as Kensit turns up there on staff this summer. Apparently she will play "a nurse who has more than a few secrets to hide and an attitude that cannot fail to ruffle the feathers of her colleagues". Sounds very familiar. There's a queue forming for bed baths already.